


Touching You

by moodwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Coming In Pants, First Time, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 07:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2301173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a first time, coming in pants -story with some dirty words and blushing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touching You

**Author's Note:**

> I can't always sleep, and when I can't, I sometimes ask for prompts on Twitter. I got "coming in pants" -prompt from Red_Adam, and thought, why not. :) 
> 
> This was betaed by @aislinntlc. Such a lovely wonderful friend.

The funny thing about Derek being almost human is that he needs more stitching up now.

Derek rests his hands against the sink, his legs spread and his head hanging between his shoulders, letting Stiles clean the wound on his back. How he ended up here in Stiles' home is a bit fuzzy in Stiles' memory, but it's okay. He likes Derek's company because in some stupid way it's familiar, and after all the shit they've been through, familiar is the best thing in Stiles' book at the moment.

"Are you sure you don't want Melissa to check it out? It's pretty deep." Stiles tries to be gentle as he brushes off all the dirt and then uses antiseptic ointment. 

Derek winces, but says nothing, doesn't even let out a sound. He shakes his head, though, letting Stiles know that this is enough.

"You okay there?" Stiles' dad hollers through the door, and it startles them both. Stiles stares at his hands as they still against Derek's lower back. "All's fine," he finally hollers back, hoping that his voice wavering doesn’t rouse his dad’s suspicions. 

After a short while, Stiles can hear his dad walking away, muttering something under his breath. Stiles lets out a sigh, leans closer to Derek because relief makes him weak. 

Derek is quiet and lets Stiles be close, like it’s comfort Stiles is offering. And maybe it is. Maybe they are in need of quiet and comfort. 

“It looks better,” Stiles finally says, running his fingers over the wound. “Like it’s healing already.”

“Sometimes another person can kickstart the healing,” Derek says quietly. 

“Yeah? I affect you in that way?” Stiles can’t help the curiosity. He traces the cut with his forefinger, and Derek stops breathing, stays absolutely still. “I can make you heal?”

Derek growls low in his throat, but doesn’t say anything. 

Stiles can count with one hand fingers the times he’s been allowed to touch Derek, and now he can’t seem to stop. He’s hit Derek a few times, but he doesn’t count that as touching him. _This_ is touching. 

There are scratches all over Derek’s back, and Stiles traces those too, expresses his gratitude towards Derek through the gentle slides of his fingers. Derek took a beating from a Berserker to save Stiles’ sorry ass, and it means something to him. Maybe that’s why he offered to give Derek a ride home, and then asked if he could bandage Derek up, too. 

Derek lets out a breath, sounding shocked. 

Stiles hopes Derek doesn’t stop him, doesn’t say anything to break the bubble they are in. It’s so weird to have the courage to touch Derek, and the more he does it the less he fears Derek’s reaction. Derek hasn’t moved an inch under Stiles’ exploring hands, and because he hasn’t, because he’s so quiet, Stiles tilts his head and licks Derek’s shoulder blade. 

It’s almost a non-touch, but the warmth of his breath ghosts over Derek’s skin, and Derek goes rigid, his bare toes curling on the bathroom floor. 

Because Derek stays still, Stiles dares to lick his spine, too, and it makes the muscles under Derek’s skin shift. Stiles has never touched another guy this way, and that thought makes his heart beat faster. He’s touching Derek intimately. 

He runs his palms up over Derek’s sides, his grip more firm when he reaches Derek’s shoulders. He squeezes the muscles there, then bites Derek’s neck, and that makes Derek move, makes him turn around and grab Stiles’ arms. He pushes Stiles against the opposite wall, his eyes huge. “Stiles?”

There’re no words for this. Stiles has never seen Derek looking so bewildered by anything, and it’s all because of him. 

Derek moves closer, leans in, then sniffs at the side of Stiles’ head. 

It’s Stiles’ turn to hold his breath. He’s not afraid, just stunned. This is Derek: his fingers curled around Stiles’ arms and his nose close to Stiles’ skin. It’s breath-taking.

Derek pushes a knee between Stiles’ thighs, and that’s embarrassingly revealing. Stiles is hard against Derek’s warm thigh, and the way Derek rubs himself against Stiles makes Stiles keen, makes him tremble. _This can’t be happening._

“Wait…” Stiles whispers, trying to think why he wants to draw Derek’s attention to anything but what’s happening. 

Instead of waiting, Derek presses closer with his body, but he stops there, panting against Stiles’ cheek. 

“I’m… God, Derek, what are you doing?”

Derek bites Stiles’ neck, licks it a few times, then bites Stiles again. Stiles whimpers, trying to hold back the sounds in case his dad has decided to come upstairs again. It’s hard, though, because now that Derek is determined to touch him, he’s doing it with his whole body, with everything he has. 

When Derek’s hands roam up Stiles’ body and into his hair, tilting his head back, Stiles grabs at Derek’s naked chest, desperate for contact, and his fingers brush at Derek’s nipples. The effect is immediate: Derek is growling at him, his eyes flashing as though Derek still expects to be the wolf that he’s been all his life. 

“What… Just...” Stiles gasps as Derek moves his hips, grinds them against Stiles’. He wants to say something to bring some sense into the situation, but his words have abandoned him.

 _Derek Hale wants him._ The thought is out of this world. It doesn’t exist in Stiles’ reality. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Derek asks, and he sounds like it’s taking a lot of effort to say those words. 

Stiles shakes his head. No matter how baffled he is, this is exactly what he wants. “Please…” Stiles breathes out, pants against Derek’s sweaty neck.

Derek lets out an odd sound, then puts his palms against the wall on either side of Stiles’ head, looks him in the eyes, and starts moving. Derek’s eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, his lips parted and wet, and Stiles wants to kiss him. He doesn’t dare, though, just keeps watching Derek. 

It’s the weirdest and most exciting thing Stiles has ever experienced: Derek’s eyes on him, Derek’s body pressing against his own, making him ridiculously turned on. He wants so much, and he has no idea how to ask for it. He finally gets enough courage to slide his arms around Derek’s body, and Derek bites his ear and whispers, “Stiles…” and it sounds like a plea. 

Stiles holds onto Derek, holds still too, because he’s so close to coming. He only needs a little bit of friction. It’s all he needs. Derek’s thigh pressing against his cock. Derek’s mouth against his ear. Derek’s warmth enveloping him. 

Derek grabs Stiles’ hair and kisses him, devours his mouth the only way Stiles has ever imagined Derek kissing him, and that does it. He groans against Derek’s lips, claws at Derek’s back, and comes in his pants like the teenager he is. What makes it a million times better is Derek shaking and moaning and coming, too, his fingers curling in Stiles’ hair. 

“God,” Derek whispers, kissing the side of Stiles’ head. “Whoa…” Derek’s hands are shaking when he cradles Stiles’ head with them. “That… whoa…” 

Stiles wants to laugh, but he fears that Derek might interpret it the wrong way. He just feels relieved, and that wants to come out as laughter. He feels content. Safe. 

Derek pulls back a little, looks into Stiles’ eyes, then leans in to kiss him gently. That makes it real. The heat of the moment can create many things, but that kiss is Derek kissing Stiles. Derek knows he’s kissing Stiles. Derek and Stiles. 

“I wanna laugh,” Stiles says, biting back the words, swallowing them, but they are coming out anyway. “Can I?”

Derek lets out the most perfect sound ever, and he does it while kissing Stiles. It’s pure joy. “If you must,” Derek drawls, but the words are layered with fondness. 

Stiles hugs Derek closer, puts his head on Derek’s shoulder, and relaxes. The laughter comes out in tiny bursts of happiness. 

They had another night of strange encounters with the supernatural, but fortunately, the night didn’t end there. It’s become something new now, something Stiles wants to protect, wants to keep to himself. 

“We should get clean,” Derek says softly, and after a short pause, Stiles nods against Derek’s shoulder. Slowly - and rather reluctantly - they let go of each other. Derek takes a step back, then reaches for Stiles and pulls him into a hug. Yeah, they’re not letting go of each other. This is too new. 

“This won’t work,” Stiles mumbles into Derek’s neck. “I don’t want to let go.”

Derek noses at the side of Stiles’ face, his hands holding Stiles like he’s something fragile. “I know.”

“I feel icky.” Stiles scrunches up his nose. “Pubic hairs and sperm are not a good mix.”

Derek laughs against Stiles skin. “You’re so weird.”

Stiles pulls back enough to look at Derek. “So weird you want to stay the night?”

“Yeah…” Derek kisses his nose. “If your dad doesn’t mind.”

Stiles’ heart does a funny little dance in his chest. “Let’s not bring him into this just yet.” He pauses, staring at Derek. “A good friend can always stay the night, especially if the friend has just saved his son’s life.”

Derek tilts his head, as though listening to something Stiles can’t hear, and Stiles wonders if that is one of those old habits Derek still has even though his wolf powers are pretty much gone. “Okay, on one condition: no hanky-panky under his roof if he doesn’t know about us.”

“Hanky-panky? Seriously?” Stiles bites his lip. 

Derek looks a tiny bit offended. “You concentrate on the wrong things.”

“I concentrate on the perfect things. You are so old fashioned.” 

Derek’s eyes are slightly murderous, and Stiles wonders how much he can push. A lot, if it’s up to him. Derek has the best temper outbursts. 

Stiles doesn’t get the chance to tease Derek more because there’s a mouth against his own, and Derek is owning Stiles with his tongue, keeping it up until Stiles is holding onto Derek’s shoulders, whimpering, wanting so much more. When Derek pulls back Stiles follows, biting Derek’s lower lip and sucking it into his mouth. The fact that he can do something like that blows his mind. 

“A strict no-touching-below-the-belt rule until the Sheriff knows about us, okay?” Derek says once Stiles releases his lip. 

“You don’t want a piece of this?” Stiles asks, grabbing his own ass. “No porking? No hiding the salami? No burying the bone? No--” Stiles squeals, because Derek lifts him up, pulls Stiles’ legs around his waist, and bites him. 

When Derek’s had enough fun with Stiles’ neck, and they are looking at each other again, Derek’s cheeks are a wonderful shade of red. Stiles loves the idea that Derek is a bit of a prude. It makes him gleeful, and he wants to tease Derek endlessly about it. 

“You’re impossible,” Derek says. 

Stiles beams. He’s awesome. He made Derek Hale blush.


End file.
